


Imperfectly Perfect

by Samari1



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pre-Relationship, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samari1/pseuds/Samari1
Summary: Clint gets knocked into a dumpster. Bucky fishes him out and decides he wants to keep him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Imperfectly Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nival_Vixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/gifts).



Prompt: Bucky finds Clint in a dumpster while he’s hiding from Steve/Avengers, and decides he’s keeping him. Deaf Clint.

\--**--

Clint knew he was awkward. He knew he always seemed to say the wrong thing, no matter how much he tried to say the right thing. Nat understood. She didn’t judge him for it, though some days she just shook her head and sighed. Not at him, but at the fact that Steve, Sam, and Tony didn’t seem to get it. Bruce did only because he was equally socially awkward. They tried so fucking hard to make him a part of their group dinners and movie nights. Dinners were difficult, because even with his aids working properly, it was too much ambient noise for him to follow along with conversations easily. He hated explaining that, so he just ended up frustrated and out of sorts. Movies, well, damn it he hadn’t missed the irritation about the subtitles the first time Tony had tried to help make it easier for him. So, he started making excuses. Nat was good about backing him up and he adored her for it. She was the one person who’d not ever given up on him.

He got the apartment in Brooklyn simply because it was easier than trying and failing at the social interaction thing at Avengers Tower. So, he found a place and moved out quietly. The people in his building didn’t expect much of him and for that Clint was grateful. He’d had to run off the tracksuit mafia a few times. Okay, sometimes he won and sometimes he lost. Story of his life honestly. Buying the building had helped, but now they harassed the rest of the neighborhood instead. 

Nat had offered to come along with him on the evenings he patrolled Brooklyn, but Clint had carefully (because he did his best to be careful with Nat’s feelings) assured her that it was something he needed to do on his own. With the loss of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the realization that HYDRA had been controlling a lot of things there, he’d needed to feel like he was actually doing good things for people. Not politicians or for politicians, but just regular people. Things he couldn’t do as Hawkeye the Avenger. She understood, like she always seemed to. 

All of that had led to this very moment. He was flat on his back in a dumpster on the border of Crown Point and Bed-Stuy. Of course, he’d not meant to take a wrong turn and end up in Crown Point, but again, story of his damn life. At least it was a full dumpster and the lid had been open. 

Clint assessed and did a mental fist bump that he wasn’t in too much pain. Yay for a high pain tolerance. He could feel something dripping towards his left eye, but really, the no pain thing might change if he tried to move. He hoped it was blood. The other options were gross. He looked up at the roof he’d been balancing on when one of the tracksuit bastards had shoved him once the short fucker had realized he was losing the fight and Clint would haul him off to the cops. 

At least it was only three stories up. It could have been worse. 

“You all right?”

Clint blinked, not sure where the voice was coming from. Did he have another concussion? Awww, no. Nat would kick his ass if he did. 

Someone landed softly on the fire escape and Clint tipped his head back to try and see who it was and if they planned on kicking his ass too.  _ Aww, pain, no. _ Damn it. Everything spun and Clint really hoped the owner of the really pretty voice wasn’t going to kick his ass, stab him, or rob him. He managed to tighten his hold on his favorite bow as everything went dark.

\--**--

Bucky sighed heavily. Of fucking course he was making coffee and having a nice, quiet evening when he heard a yelp and someone falling from the roof. He looked out just in time to see the purple and black clad figure fly past and the loud, “Oof. Owww.” 

“Ignore it,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. It didn’t work. He knew damn well who it was. His goal was hiding from the Avengers, not yet ready to face Steve after what had happened in D.C. six months ago. Thus far, he’d managed it. Okay, he’d managed it with Natalia’s help. She was sworn to secrecy and he trusted her to not go back on her word. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He hauled himself out the window and leant over the fire escape railing. If Natalia found out her best friend was injured and he’d not helped … well HYDRA and an overprotective Steve Rogers would be the least of his worries. He did not need an angry Natalia Romanov out for his head. Did. Not. Need. “You all right?”

He could see well enough to see Barton blinking and looking disoriented. Fuck. Smart thing would be texting Natalia and having her come and deal with him. But, Bucky could see at least one head wound and she was all the way in Manhattan at Avengers Tower. He braced his metal arm on the railing and launched himself over, twisting himself so he could catch the bottom landing of the fire escape. 

“Awww, pain, no,” Barton muttered and then passed the fuck out. 

Bucky sighed. The man was too fucking pretty for his piece of mind. He didn’t need to be thinking such things, not when his brain was still swiss cheese and he was hiding from Steve. On top of that, he reminded himself, Natalia’s best friend should probably be number one on his list of off limits people. He figured checking if Barton was truly out cold was wise. “Barton?”

No answer. Damn it. Bucky jumped down, balancing on the edge of the dumpster, reaching down to pick up Barton. The blond groaned and Bucky knew he was in trouble. Damn it. Cradling the taller man with his metal arm, he grabbed the arrows that had fallen from the quiver and carried his charge back up the fire escape, considering for a few minutes just how to get them back through his window. It was large, but he didn’t want to hurt Barton further. 

“Ugh. Owww,” Barton murmured groggily and Bucky twisted, getting them inside and had Barton laying on his bed moments later. 

Bucky flipped on the bedside lamp and sighed. Yeah, in this light, he was reminded why he’d been keeping his distance despite Natalia assuring him that Barton wouldn’t tell the other Avengers where he was. The woman hardly stopped talking about Barton. She was evil, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Natalia would just thank him for the compliment.

“Stay still, you have a head wound.”

Barton froze, his eyes flying open and full of panic. Bucky didn’t miss that the blond’s grip on his bow tightened slightly. It hurt, but Bucky got it. Strange place, strange person, and injuries … the wariness shouldn’t hurt his feelings. It did though.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Barton.” 

“Barnes?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You’re pretty.”

Bucky bit back his laugh, not wanting to offend the man. “You’ve probably got a concussion.” He held up four fingers. “How many?”

Barton sighed, wincing. “One of you. Four fingers. Don’t tell anyone.”

He frowned at the panicked tone, reaching out before he thought about it. He pulled his hand back, wincing. Natalia had warned him that Barton had some pretty firm lines about personal space and he didn’t want to offend. Offending Barton was the last thing he wanted actually. “About?”

Barton did that slow blink thing, groaning as he shifted. “Oww.”

“Can I help you get the quiver off? Can’t be comfortable laying on it.” 

Barton blushed. “Imma shut up. I can go?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you really think I’ll just let you walk out of here with a head wound? I’m an asshole, just not that big of one.”

Barton chuckled, then groaned, closing his eyes again, a hand moving up to hover over his ribs. “Oww, pain, no. Stop.”

Fuck. Barton was fucking adorable. He knew, just knew, that Natalia was probably laughing her ass off in Manhattan at this very moment. “Stay still, Barton. Let me clean that head wound and then we’ll re-assess, okay?”

“I’ve had worse. No need to bother you. It’s Clint. Barton makes me think I’m in trouble.” 

Sighing, he stepped over and dug his first aid kit off the shelf he’d tossed it on when Natalia had brought it by, insisting that he’d need it sooner or later. “It isn’t a bother, Clint.” 

The sigh this time was different. Bucky watched, trying to puzzle out what he’d said or done to cause the other man to sound so … damn he couldn’t put his finger on just what the undertone was. Fuck his swiss cheese brain. He stepped back over, kit in hand. “Hey, stay awake okay? Pretty sure you aren’t supposed to sleep if you have head wounds.”

Clint rolled to his side, slowly and with a lot of groans. He managed to hit a button or something similar that released the quiver and sighed. “I’m always a bother. Sleepy too. Gonna sleep.”

He took a risk, sitting on the edge of the bed. The man definitely wasn’t 100% right now and that was worrisome. Best to explain what he was doing or risk Clint attempting to leave. He didn’t like the sound of Clint thinking he was a bother, but it explained so much about some of the little things Natalia had grumbled about at various times over the last few months. What the ever loving fuck was wrong with people? He took a deep breath and focused on the current situation. 

“You need to be awake. Don’t make me haul you to the nearest hospital. I’m going to clean the cut on your brow and bandage it.”

Clint sighed and pouted, looking utterly exhausted. “It’s fine. I’m fine. No hospital. Sorry.”

The kit was pretty self explanatory so it didn’t take him long to find the alcohol pad and a tube of glue that should close the wound without the need of stitches. Just because he’d thought it was dumb to have, that didn’t mean he’d not been curious and studied it - just in case. He was as careful as he could be cleaning the jagged cut through Clint’s eyebrow. 

“Ouch,” the tone was a pout.

Bucky felt himself smiling. Adorable. Shit. Fuck. At this rate, he was going to prove Natalia’s teasing ‘You’ll love Clint, James, I know you will’ all too correct and not in the way she’d meant it. “About done. Just stay awake.”

Those gorgeous blue eyes were glassy and he knew it was from the head wound and what looked to be habitual sleeplessness. He knew the symptoms of that particular problem all too well. Damn it. The urge to convince Clint to stay right where he was as long as possible was getting harder to suppress.

“Not my first head injury,” Clint mumbled. “Sleep is fine. Should go. Probably smell gross.”

He carefully glued the wound closed, sighing for what had to be the millionth time since seeing Clint fall. “You weren’t in the dumpster for more than three minutes, you’re fine.”

He closed the kit after replacing the glue and set it on the bedside table. Warily, because Natalia’s warnings were ringing in his head, Bucky waited to see what Clint would do next. He liked seeing the blond laid out in his bed, more than he probably should. Hell, if Clint took up residence there, Bucky wouldn't mind at all. Yeah, suppressing that urge wasn’t going very well for him. 

Clint attempted to push himself into a sitting position, his arms shaking and Bucky caught him before he could fall back again. “Ugh. Stupid. Stupid. Sorry, Barnes.”

“Bucky or James is fine.” He carefully piled the pillows up with one hand and all but cradled Clint against his chest with the other. “You’re not stupid. You’re hurt.”

“Always am.”

His jaw nearly dropped at the muttered words. They stirred his protective nature in a way that made him want to hunt down anyone who hurt the blond and teach them just why that was a bad fucking idea. “Why are you always hurt?”

“Always stupid too.”

Concerned at the words and groggy tone, Bucky set Clint against the pillows. He wasn’t about to touch that particular topic, not when Clint needed to not be upset and get some rest. “If you promise to stay awake for the next few minutes, I’ll get you coffee.”

Clint perked up a bit, smiling brightly, despite his obvious pain and weariness. “Aww yay.”

Bucky grinned. “I’ll make you watch me drink it all if you don’t stay awake.”

“Hmf, Mean James. Not nice.” Blue eyes narrowed. “Nat says that too.”

He reached out to keep the blond from moving, having spotted the momentary panic and wanting to stop Clint from hurting himself further. “No coffee if you move around.”

Looking slightly green, Clint sighed and settled back against the pillows. “She’ll know, damn it. Oww. Bad pain, go away.”

“Stay there and I’ll get the coffee.”

Looking defeated, Clint managed a light nod.

Bucky was up and in the kitchen quickly. With one eye on Clint through the doorway, the other was on his phone, which he had left on the counter. He quickly typed out a text with his real hand:  _ Is it okay to sleep with a possible concussion? _

Her reply was almost instantaneous:  _ Depends on how many concussions you’ve had. Why? _

_ Just answer the question, Natalia. _

_ Testy, testy, James. Wake the person every hour or two and make sure they can answer questions properly. Do I need to visit? _

It was probably wrong of him, but the thought of Natalia arriving and taking Clint away was more than a bit upsetting.  _ No! I’ve got this. Gotta go.  _ He ignored her response, though she’d probably make him pay dearly for that later. Instead, he poured two cups of coffee and carried them both back into the bedroom. “Here. Black okay?”

“Yeah. I can go?”

Bucky nearly glared, then he remembered that Clint was probably embarrassed. Not that he needed to be. It was a good thing he’d gone over where he had. “You’re lucky, ya know.”

Clint’s face scrunched up adorably. “How?”

“Three feet over and you’d be in pieces.” He waited, but Clint just looked thoughtful. “Can I take a look at your ribs?”

Clint swallowed and sighed. “Not broken. I’m fine.”

“Not sure your definition of fine is the usual one. You grabbed them earlier. I’ll not tell a soul if you don’t want me to. Not like I can waltz up to Avengers Tower and tattle on you.”

Clint’s eyes were a bit clearer now, thankfully. “Not broken, really.”

“More coffee?” It wasn’t what he really wanted to ask, but he was starting to see the pattern in Clint’s responses. Mostly deflection, with a bit of opposite speak thrown in. His heart broke a little. 

Clearly surprised, Clint handed over his cup. “That’d be okay.”

He didn’t say anything, not sure if he should push it. Even with the coffee, Clint looked ready to collapse. Taking the cup, he refilled it and handed it back. Not saying a word and sipping his own coffee, Bucky grabbed a tee shirt and sweatpants off a shelf. He handed them to Clint. “If you want, you can change into those. The sweatpants are too long on me.”

Clint blinked, his expression was one of utter shock. “Uhh. Why?”

Bucky leant on the shelves, sipping his coffee and hoping he wasn’t too fucking obvious. “Your shirt has blood all over it. Figured you’d not want to be stopped by cops since you keep insisting you need to leave. You don’t.”

Clint finished off the coffee and set the cup on the bedside table. He was eying Bucky suspiciously, but carefully took the shirt. “Trick?”

Bucky shook his head. It wasn’t a trick, not really. He hated to make Clint hurt any more than he already did, but the man was stubborn as fuck. He set his cup aside and readied himself to catch Clint when he inevitably passed out from pain. It only took lifting his shirt half up his chest before Clint groaned and his eyes rolled back. Bucky caught him, taking the shirt the rest of the way off and laying him down flat on his back, not willing to go further than that. Carefully, he pressed on the rather impressive bruising over Clint’s ribs. Nothing was broken, at least obviously so. That was good. 

“You and Nat. Evil,” Clint muttered, between groans, coming around far quicker than Bucky had expected. 

He lifted one eyebrow, frowning. “If you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Clint huffed, but didn’t move. “Ugh, tylenol?”

“Will it work?”

“Sure.”

“Sleep, I’ll check on you every couple of hours. If you feel better tomorrow, I’ll get you home.” He took the quiver and bow off the bed and set them on the bedside table. They were within reach, which he had a feeling would be very important to Clint. 

Clint didn’t respond and Bucky realized that he’d fallen asleep. He took their cups into the kitchen, setting Clint’s empty one in the sink and refilling his own. He settled on the couch and kept watch. He’d give Clint two hours before he woke him. 

\--**--

Groggy, Clint blinked, trying to remember why he low grade hurt all over. Then his brain helpfully supplied nearly every mortifying moment up to and including James waking him every few hours to check on him. The second time, James had insisted Clint take his aids out. The next wake up, they’d used ASL (James murmuring something about knowing all sorts of languages and Clint had hurt too much to question him). The pattern had repeated half a dozen times or more. It was all still hazy. He needed coffee. His aids were next to the pillow and he moved only enough to put them in and turn them on. The low grade pain wasn’t enough to stop him from going for coffee. 

He tried to sit up, only to have James in the room in seconds, reaching out as if he wanted to stop Clint from moving, pulling back and blushing at the last second. Clint froze mid-motion. “Hey, go slow.”

“‘M fine.” He wasn’t, but damn his mouth for saying everything wrong again. Shit. He should be thanking the man, not being an ass. Problem was, he always ended up acting like an ass unintentionally. This was why he just didn’t interact with people. 

“Which means you’re still hurting, Clint.” James sighed. “Let me help you sit up. Please?”

The ‘please’ stopped him from trying to move again. Clint found himself nodding, clamping his mouth closed before he said another stupid thing. No one but Nat ever noticed or had cared to actually understand him. He was so confused.

James helped him slowly sit up and Clint did a mental assessment of his injuries. Bruised ribs, headache, left hip sore, and he could feel the swelling over his left eye. All in all, it wasn’t the worst he’d had. He’d slept well too. One more thing to try and thank the man for. “Wanna try to stand?”

His head felt like a full marching band was banging away inside it, but Clint had already taken up too much of James’ time and even the poor man’s bed. It wasn’t a place he liked to find himself in, owing James anything. He braced himself and tried to convince himself he could get moving. He knew he had to. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. “Time is it?”

James sighed, something passing over his face that Clint couldn’t quite catch. “About two in the afternoon. Hungry?”

“You’ve done too much already.” He winced, his shoulders hunching. Damn. Damn. Damn his inability to just say what he meant to. He wasn’t even sure why ‘thanks for everything’ or even ‘thanks, but I need to get home’ ended up so wrong. He waited for the anger or frustration from James. 

“Coffee then?”

Clint wasn’t good at reading people, not really. He knew there was something inherently broken in him. He was a good spy, a good assassin, and a damn good Avenger. It was when it wasn’t job related that he utterly failed. He needed to go before he convinced James he was a total idiot and failure at all the things. But … coffee. Damn, his one weakness. “Uhh, okay.”

James sighed heavily. “I put the shirt and sweatpants on the sink, if you want to shower while I get the coffee going again. You’ve got dried blood in your hair.”

Clint wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He already looked like a useless moron. Falling on his face trying to shower was the last thing he wanted. Shit. He needed to get home where he could curl up and be miserable all alone. This whole having someone (someone that wasn’t Nat) helping him was making him twitchy. He liked it, for sure. James was gorgeous and that wasn’t helping him untwist his tongue and try to communicate effectively. “Cops know me. Rookies don’t try to arrest me anymore. It’s good.”

James ran a hand through his hair and turned to go. “Up to you. Taking a bit of help sometimes isn’t a bad thing, you know.”

Clint blinked, shocked speechless. That was word for word what Nat told him almost weekly. Before he could ask about that, James was out of the room. Clint pushed himself to stand, his legs holding. Good. He needed a shirt and his gear. It wouldn’t do to get comfortable in James’ space. Clearly, the man was ducking the Avengers and Steve most of all. He didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. It was better to just go. After trying to actually thank the man. He didn’t allow himself to think about why that didn’t sit well with him. 

—**—

Bucky wasn’t surprised to see Clint emerge from the bedroom a few minutes later wearing his bloodstained shirt, his bow and quiver back in place. He couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to, pick Clint up and carry him back to bed. To recover, he reminded himself. Just to recover. He’d spent far too much time trying to figure out how the fuck the blond was covered in scrapes, cuts, and so many various bruises his upper body was a rainbow. Not that it took away from his attractiveness, far from it. Fuck. 

“You sure you don’t want any pain meds?”

“I’m fine,” Clint muttered defensively. Then he winced. “I can go.”

Damn if the opposite speak didn’t just melt Bucky’s heart a bit. He got it, really he did. “At least take the coffee.”

Blushing, Clint stared at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Uhh. Thanks.”

Bucky handed over a travel cup of coffee. Clint was practically vibrating from either nerves or pain, or both. As much as Bucky wanted him to stay, wanted to keep him here and make sure he was actually okay not just deflecting, it was clearly the wrong thing. “Not a problem.”

A bright smile and a, “I won’t tell anyone I saw you. Least I can do,” and Clint was gone. Out the fucking window. Bucky tracked his movements as long as possible without following him. That would be creepy. He could see pain in every movement. Fuck it all. It felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t leave Clint hurting and alone. He just couldn’t. 

His phone was in hand seconds later and the call connected. He sighed at Natalia’s, “I won’t tell him you called me, James.”

He nearly laughed. Of fucking course she’d figured it out. His eyes narrowed as he stepped back over to the window, scanning the area. He wouldn’t put it past her to have been watching after he texted last night. “I didn’t tell him you were helping me.”

Natalia sighed. “I’ll handle it. Does this mean you’re done being stubborn about me bringing Clint around?”

He laid his head on the window frame. “I tried to keep him here, Natalia. Make sure he was really okay.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. I’ve got him in sight, James. Even brought him pizza.”

Damn it. He should have thought of feeding Clint, actually having food right there not just offering. Maybe he could have kept Clint around just a bit longer. One side of his mouth quirked up. He’d managed to send Clint off with one of his travel cups. Maybe, just maybe, it would give Clint a reason to come back. As ridiculous as it was, Bucky felt a bit better about the state of his life. There was something about Clint Barton that made everything a bit brighter. 

Cursing himself for being a fool, Bucky pushed away from the window. There was nothing more he could do. Not now. Ball was in Clint’s court now. With that in mind, he sat down at the computer Natalia had insisted he needed and continued catching up on all the things he’d missed being a human ice cube. As a distraction, it was a good one.

—**—

Clint sat in the corner of his shower, letting the water pelt down on him. It hurt like a bitch, but also helped? He had a high pain tolerance, for which he was eternally grateful. He sipped the coffee, carefully resting the back of his head on the wall. He would have to return the mug. But, that was a problem for later. His problem right now was loosening up his muscles so that no one suspected just how hurt he was. 

He pushed up, biting back the groan and grabbed the towel. He dried off his face carefully and tucked his aids back in, turning them on. He always felt extra vulnerable when he was this hurt. 

“Clint? You awake? I brought pizza.”

He didn’t know whether to cheer or fucking cry. Yay pizza. Aww, no, Nat seeing him all beat up again. It wasn’t that he’d lied to her after their last training session, it was that he genuinely hadn’t felt any of the injuries. The bruises had been surprising when they’d appeared later that day.

“Clint?”

Shit. “Be there in a minute!”

He stumbled out, for once not tripping over all crap he hadn’t bothered to scoop up off the floor yet this week. Laundry. That was what he kept forgetting. Damn it. He managed to get on sweatpants and a hoodie and make it down to the kitchen before Nat came looking for him. 

She took one look at him and turned to the refrigerator, grabbing a bag of peas out of the freezer. “You didn’t ice it?”

He blushed, ducking his head and feeling like a five year old. “Why bother? It’s not a big deal.”

She hugged him gently and herded him over to the couch. “Ice your face and I’ll bring over the pizza and make coffee.” She paused mid step. “Why isn’t there coffee already, Clint?”

“Had some. Now I don’t.”

Nat sighed. “Were you out on rooftops or date gone way wrong and I need to hide a body?”

He laughed, hoping the bag of peas hid the wince. “Rooftops. Nasty little fucker shoved me off a roof when he realized his night would end in the back of a cop car.”

“I should introduce you to my friend,” she said, making coffee in that efficient way of hers that never failed to make him a bit jealous. He always either spilled water or coffee grounds all over the counter. “He lives not far from here. Good man, he’d have patched you up.”

Clint blushed. He bit his tongue, unwilling to tell her about James. Nat wouldn’t tell anyone, he knew that, but he’d promised. “I’m a grown ass adult, Nat. I can, despite what everyone thinks, take care of myself. I thought you knew that.”

Ever patient, she just shook her head and brought him a cup of coffee. “Taking a bit of help sometimes isn’t a bad thing, you know.” 

The pieces finally fell into place now that the band in his head had stopped playing their tune and the hot water had stopped most of the pain. He knew he shouldn’t feel hurt. After all, he was going to keep James secret from her. But, he did. Instantly defensive was his go-to, even when he tried to stop it. “You could have told me.” Clint felt like shit as soon as the words left his mouth. Damn it all. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t snap at you.”

She brought the pizza over and then sat, taking his face carefully in her hands after removing the bag of peas. “He didn’t want you to feel conflicted since he’s trying to figure himself out before facing Steve.”

Clint hated that it hurt. Hated that he was so damned broken that he couldn’t be trusted. He wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t that far gone. He looked away from her, not wanting his brokenness to harm their friendship. He tried so damn hard to be careful with her. She was his best - only - friend and she didn’t have anyone else who understood her and liked her how she was. So, he tried. Each word was a struggle, to make sure he didn’t say it all wrong. “I’m okay. Really. Pain's almost gone now. Not fronting. I promise.”

She ran a hand lightly over his hair, her way of soothing without freaking him out. It did the trick and he felt most of the tension drain. “Wanna curl up and watch Bake-Off? I need Clint-time.”

He knew she worried about him. Knew she panicked in her own Nat-like way when he was hurt. He also knew it made him an asshole for going out and fighting thugs when he knew she worried so much. He just had to do it. It wasn’t easy being his friend, Clint knew that. He really didn't deserve her. But, he wasn’t about to give her up. So, even though he was twitchy, he nodded. 

Nat kissed his cheek. “Want to turn your aids off and curl up? I won’t stay long. I just need to know you are okay.”

He nearly cried with relief. Yeah, she knew him and he loved her for it. With that in mind, he let her tuck blankets around him and basically make him a nest on one end of the couch. He took his aids out and laid them on the coffee table. Nat grabbed her blanket, the one he went and bought just for her, and curled up. They both needed human contact, because being touch starved was a real thing. He just couldn’t manage it, not yet. 

—**—

Bucky was surprised to see Clint appear on his fire escape. Natalia had stopped by two days ago after checking that Clint was truly okay. Because of her warning, Bucky couldn’t just go with his instincts to invite the blond in and risk upsetting him further. Fuck it all. He’d not meant to hurt the man by keeping himself a secret, he’d meant to protect him. Even before Natalia had started her endless flow of information, he’d been able to see the core of decency in Clint Barton and hadn’t wanted the man to feel conflicted about keeping things from the other Avengers. He’d made that choice before he knew more about the blond. If he was honest, he’d done it to keep him at arms length because he was all messed up and didn’t need to mess anyone else’s lives up. He was carrying enough guilt that Natalia had been outright lying to her fellow Avengers. More importantly, her best friend. For six fucking months. No matter how much he wanted to make things right, to maybe just maybe have Clint in his life … it wasn’t up to him. It couldn’t be. Just because he wanted to wrap his arms around Clint and hold him, keep him for his own … he’d ruined it. Clearly.

Fuck. Just fuck. 

Clint set the travel cup on the window sill. “You could’ve trusted me.”

He didn’t dare move any closer and risk spooking Clint. “I did. I do.”

Clint scoffed and turned to leave. “Yeah. Anyway, returned your cup like I promised Nat I would.”

“I have coffee,” he offered almost desperately. “Want some?”

Clint’s amazing blue eyes did that slow blink thing. “Thugs to chase down.”

Bucky almost smiled. It was almost an olive branch if you paid attention to Clint and could translate. He poured two cups of coffee and handed one out the window, kicking himself for being so nervous. Clint took the cup and leaned on the railing. “You’d think they’d have learnt by now.”

Clint smiled wryly. “New Yorkers are a stubborn breed.”

Bucky grinned, relief washing over him the longer Clint stayed. “Yeah, we are. Especially when we think we're trying to protect people.”

Clint lifted one shoulder and looked away. 

“I was wrong.”

Clint’s head whipped around so fast that Bucky was worried he’d damaged something in his neck. “For trusting me this week?”

Biting back a groan, Bucky pushed on, trying to fix things. “I shouldn’t have made Natalia lie to you. That was so very wrong of me.”

Clint looked perplexed. Adorably so. 

“She nearly kicked my ass for it,” he continued dryly. “So don’t be mad at Natalia, yeah?”

Clint sighed. “Not mad at her.”

“Mad at me then?” 

Clint shrugged again. “I should go.”

“I could order pizza?” Bless Natalia for letting Clint’s liking of pizza slip into their conversation two days ago. It was an olive branch, apology, and a reason to get Clint back into his space all in one go.

Clint glanced out over the skyline, clearly struggling. 

“You can go hunting thugs after.”

Without a word, Clint picked the mug up and slipped through the window. Bucky picked up his phone and quickly ordered a pizza. Not sure what to do to help Clint feel more comfortable, Bucky held up the coffee carafe. Clint relaxed slightly, holding his cup out to be refilled. 

Even if they didn’t talk, it felt really nice to have Clint here, where Bucky could see he was healing and doing okay. 

It was a start.

—**—

Clint wasn’t certain when or how it had become a habit to swing by James’ apartment. It had started off when he’d still been hurt and defensive, but Nat had pushed him to return the travel cup to James. Tricksy Nat. She’d known. He’d promised himself it would just be the one time. 

He should have known better. 

He’d not been able to stay away a whole week. The weekly visits lasted maybe a month. Then he’d started bringing the pizza or coffee, twice a week. Then three times a week. They alternated now on who got the pizza and who provided the coffee. It had become part of his routine. Just like Nat dropping by and watching baking shows with him. He’d even allowed himself to be okay with swinging back by the one time he needed patched up. Not like that first time bad, but James hadn’t chided him, just cleaned up the cut on his arm and convinced him to take a break for the night. They’d ended up watching a movie, James turning the subtitles on without even complaining. 

It was okay, he assured himself. He had two friends now. Real friends, not work friends. It wasn’t new anymore. It didn’t need to make him all nervous. So why did it? He didn’t know and didn’t want to mess up their routine by working himself up too much. James’ apartment was a safe space, just not his safe space, kinda like Nat’s apartment at Avengers Tower. If he thought too much about it, he would get twitchy and jumpy and have to go home. Go to his space. 

He hopped down, peeking in when he found the window closed. He waited a few minutes. It wasn’t long before James came into the apartment. Clint shifted to the shadows, wondering why the routine had been changed. Had he done something wrong? 

James made no move to open the window. He just moved around the apartment as if it wasn’t a thing. Clint set the coffee down on the fire escape and quietly left. Shoulders slumped, he went home. He waved at Aimee when she greeted him, but she seemed to know that now wasn’t a good time to talk and let him past. 

He went through the motions, making coffee and putting up his gear. He swapped his street clothes for the most comfortable things he owned, needing that extra bit of comfort. Out of sorts completely, he got his coffee and slumped down on the couch. He didn’t bother with the tv or radio or even the manga he’d picked up yesterday when Nat had dragged him out shopping. He couldn’t even bring himself to actually drink the coffee, just cradle the mug in his hands.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Just that he had to have done something. 

—**—

Bucky looked at the clock and cussed, loudly and creatively. He rushed to the window and opened it, his heart sinking and stomach clenching when he saw the coffee cups on the fire escape. Fuck. He picked them up, noting that they were still warm. Not hot, not like they would have been if he’d actually been paying attention. Fuck. 

He set them on the counter and stared at them. Fuck, he was such an idiot. He’d been restless, wondering if he had it in him to contact Steve. He couldn’t, not after spending so much time with Clint, keep making Clint and Natalia lie. It was wrong. He hoped that he and Clint were slowly building something, some sort of relationship and it wouldn't be right to have lies be so intertwined in it. So, he’d walked and tried to figure out how to approach Steve that wouldn’t cause more issues. 

Bucky wanted to punch himself. He knew (thank you Natalia) how to set alarms on his phone. Why hadn’t he? He knew, he fucking knew, how important routines were to Clint. Knew that routines helped steady Clint so that when Avengers things came up, he could focus so completely. He also knew this wouldn't be something he could easily fix. Not when Clint would blame himself. 

He grabbed his phone and keys, sticking them back in his hoodie pocket and all but rushed out the door. Clint had shown him where his home was one night, when they had decided to pick up the pizza when they found out it would take twice as long to have it delivered. He’d felt so damn happy when Clint had extended that much trust. Clint had even quietly explained how he’d bought the building out from under the tracksuit morons to keep them from harassing the tenants. 

He covered the blocks quickly, mentally kicking himself for not taking the care that he should have with the man he was falling completely and utterly in love with. That first night, the urge to do whatever he needed to in order to make the gorgeous (inside and out) blond his had been almost overwhelming. He’d tempered his reactions, happy to move at whatever pace needed in order for Clint to be comfortable. 

And he had been, until Bucky had fucked it all up. Clint talked now and not only opposite speak that had been the majority of their first few conversations. He wasn’t sure what Clint called it, just that it was a logical way to think about it. Natalia had confirmed that Clint took longer than most people to let anyone in. Bucky rather thought it was the pot calling the kettle black and had told her so. She’d laughed and said all three of them were that way. She wasn’t wrong. 

There were times when he wanted to simply hug Clint and assure him that he was patient and was happy to wait for the blond to say what he wanted to. He also knew that Clint used deflection most often with the Avengers, keeping quiet and only talking when necessary. It had been a gift when Clint had made the effort to work through his thoughts and share with Bucky. Hell, half the time he thought of himself as James these days, all thanks to the cadence Clint used when saying his name. If that made him a sap, oh well. 

He stepped into the building and made his way up the stairs. More than one person peeked out curiously, but let him pass without questions. Usually, that would make him wary but not tonight. 

He knocked on Clint’s door. No response. Fuck. He tried again. And again. “Clint?”

The door cracked open, Clint looking confused and hurt and a dozen other things that he desperately wanted to make better, if Clint would let him. “What?”

That hurt, but he knew he probably deserved it. He held up the coffees he’d picked up on his way to Clint’s. “I wanted to apologize.”

Those stunning blue eyes went blank and Bucky wondered if he offered to let Clint punch him if that would hurt worse. “It’s not a thing.”

The words tumbled out in a jumble, the panic rising with every second that passed. “It is. It  _ so  _ is. I was trying to figure out how to talk to Steve so I wasn’t forcing you to lie anymore. I wanted to be able to tell Steve how much you mean to me. How you’ve helped me so fucking much. I know to set an alarm so I’m not late. I forgot today, because I was so worried about making things right.”

Clint did that slow blink thing that meant he was processing and assessing. “I’m a bother. You shouldn’t anymore.”

“No, you aren’t.” He was careful not to push too far. This was important, maybe the most important thing ever. It was opposite speak, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the root of the problem. “Am I a bother when I can’t remember things? Or can’t find my words? Or when I’m all shaky and paranoid? Or that time we fell asleep watching that movie and I woke up screaming and knocked you to the floor? No, I’m not. Haven’t you said that over and over to me? You matter to me, Clint. You have to know that. I like you exactly how you are.”

The door fell open and Clint stepped back, still quiet and watchful. Bucky stepped inside, setting the coffees on the counter. He turned to see Clint hadn’t moved except to close the door, still watching him warily. “I miss you, ya know, when you aren’t there. A dozen times a day I think of things that I want to share with you. That I want your opinion on.”

Clint’s head tilted as if he truly didn’t understand what he was hearing. “Why?”

Bucky took a step forward, holding out a hand. “Wanna sit with our coffees? As for why, because, I want you in my life, if you’re okay with that.”

Clint took his hand, shaking lightly and blushing. “Okay.”


End file.
